The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh

Twenty-Six

Celeste

No matter how hard I try, I get the feeling Frankie’s still a tad guarded with me.

So I have to try harder.

As the girls come running out of class, chattering about the end of term show eight weeks away and the costumes they might wear, I ask, “On my way here I saw a great café that’s dance themed. Shall we take the girls for a snack?”

I’m underhanded because I know once the girls latch onto “dance-themed” they’ll bug us until we capitulate and by Frankie’s weary expression as Luna starts to badger her, she’ll give in.

“Okay, okay, but just a quick snack so you don’t spoil dinner.” Frankie holds up her hands in surrender and Luna and Vi start cheering.

“Let’s go, girls.” I take hold of Vi’s hand, something she doesn’t allow these days most of the time. My little girl is growing up and before she gets too much older I’d love her to have a sibling.

One of the reasons I’d ended it with Roland. Every time I brought it up over the last few years, he’d fob me off with an excuse.

“Our lives are settled. Our family is perfect the way it is. We can’t afford it.”

Lies, all of it. Because during our last confrontation he revealed the real reason why he didn’t want to father another child with me.

The ensuing rage hadn’t been pretty.

“How did you like your first dance class, Violette?” Frankie asks.

My daughter looks up at Frankie. “It’s okay. Though I’m not sure I’d like it as much if Luna wasn’t there. She’s my best friend.”

“That’s sweet,” Frankie says, but as her gaze meets mine I can see she has questions.

I would never prompt Vi to give specific answers to questions when asked because kids can’t be trusted not to slip up. And I can see Frankie’s puzzled by Vi’s wishy-washy response after I said earlier she’s been wanting to do ballet for ages. I’m not worried. I can explain away Vi’s less than stellar enthusiasm.

“We’re lucky to have moved next door to Luna and Frankie, huh?” I swing Vi’s arm high as she yells, “Yeah,” with Luna joining in, and Frankie’s indulgent smile eases my niggle of worry.

That’s what this invitation to hang out after dance class is about, another way for the girls to grow closer, to bond. I need that so badly for my daughter.

The café is a block away from the studio and it’s more rock-and-roll themed than dance, but the girls are instantly captivated by the waitresses on roller skates and the jukebox with flashing lights in the corner. As we settle at a table with red vinyl booths, the girls grab the menus. Vi’s reading is coming along slowly and I know she’ll choose something according to the pictures.

“Mom, can I have a strawberry milkshake?” True enough, Vi points to a frothy pink concoction in a sundae glass topped with whipped cream and sprinkles.

“I wish they had apple milkshakes.” Luna pouts. “Remember when you were asking me about my favorite stuff, Celeste, and I said I liked dancing and apples best?”

I quickly school my face into a mask of indifference but it’s too late. Frankie is looking at me in the same way as when I asked for Andre’s help to move the trunk. Suspicious. She thinks I only enrolled Vi at Madame L’Viste’s because Luna attended classes there.

And she’s right. It took me all day to scour the dance schools to discover which one Luna attended. Not that any of the schools wanted to give out privileged information, but when I showed them a snapshot I took of the girls on my cell, and gave a spiel about just moving here and wanting to surprise our best friends, two schools had been forthcoming. Thankfully, one of them had been Madame L’Viste.

“Yes, it’s lucky Vi gets to be in your class. I’d actually enrolled her at a different school but they called this morning and said they’d overbooked and recommended we try Madame L’Viste.”

By her frown I can tell she’s not buying it.

“Which school?” she asks.

“Mayberry’s, at the other end of the waterfront,” I say, glad I’d spent time checking out all the schools so my lie sounds convincing.

She appears mollified and nods. “Yeah, their classes are always packed. I almost enrolled Luna there before I saw the numbers.” She smiles at Vi. “If your mom says it’s okay, would you like to share a plate of churros with Luna?”

I’m annoyed at her presumptuousness. She should’ve asked me first, not Vi, but I smile when Vi turns to me, practically jumping up and down in her seat.

“Can I, Mom?”

I nod and the girls let out a whoop. But I don’t like being undermined and wonder if it’s Frankie’s warped way of paying me back for grilling her daughter on her likes and dislikes.

When our orders arrive—iced teas for Frankie and me, strawberry milkshakes and churros for the girls—I’m starting to relax.

Until Frankie says, “Did you like living near the beach, Violette?”

I immediately tense. Maybe this post-dance play date isn’t such a good idea? I want the girls to bond but I don’t want Frankie asking Vi questions.

“Uh-huh. I liked building sandcastles with my dad.” Her bottom lip wobbles a little and I hold my breath. “When he was around.”

Frankie appears remorseful that she’s upset my daughter, and quickly says, “Dads can be like that sometimes.”

Solemn, Vi nods. “Yeah, he only visited when he came to town for work, which wasn’t very often.” Her face screws up as she looks at me. “What was his job again, Mom? A free… something…”

“A freelancer, honey.”

Frankie’s eyes widen slightly. “Luna’s dad is a freelancer too. He designs stuff for companies so he travels sometimes.” She slides an arm around Luna’s shoulders. “You miss him too when he does that, don’t you, sweetie?”

“I hate it.” Luna pulls a face, before asking Vi, “Where’s your dad now? How come he doesn’t live with you?”

Vi’s face crumples like she’s about to cry and I see Frankie’s expression is sympathetic now rather than suspicious. I’m relieved and slide an arm around Vi’s shoulders before replying to Luna. “Vi’s father didn’t want to move so we won’t be seeing him anymore.”

I’ll make sure of it. Protecting my daughter is my number one priority.